To Die in Disgusting Hands
by FieryMoment
Summary: Something happens to Draco over the holdiday's and Harry is determined to fix it. HPDM. Warnings: rape, slash. Disclaimer: I dont own the characters.
1. A White Blinding Dream

"_No father, please!"_

_He looked up with his stormy grey eyes, large from fear and pain to see a most terrifying sight. A tall, almost hideous but, in a dark and mystifying way, beautiful man was looming his body, making him feel small land crushable. This man had intense blonde hair that went just past his shoulders and a murderous expression on his face. A _murderous_ expression. The man's hair blew gently from the icy wind that was entering through the window behind him. Looking outside this window, you could see the moon. A full moon. Wisps of cloud covered parts of it and it seemed like something out of a horror movie. How appropriate he thought. When he squinted slightly he could have sworn that the cloud was in the shape of a snake. The sign of _HIM._ He looked back up at the man standing over him, now deeply worried for his own safety. He never believed his father could ever be truly cruel, but seeing him now, seeing him this way, he believed it. He believed it with every fibre in his body. His father's eyes, normally a deep grey just like his, had turned black, and his usually laughing mouth was now turned down frowning, creasing in a cruel and hard manner at the edges. He could see the black magic seeping around his father's body as if it were blood in his veins. His eyes widened even further in fear. _

"_You_ will_ obey me! I will not allow you to bring our family to shame! Now strip, we have to get you ready."_

_He did not move. He couldn't he was so terrified. His father forcefully snatched him and started to rip the clothes off. _

"_Father, please! I do not want to follow him! I just want to be free! Please! Don't do this to me!" He screamed as his father dragged him to the middle of the room. He noticed that a huge snake had been drawn out on the floor. A snake! He hadn't been wrong…_HE_ was here. The sign stretched across the whole room in a dark red colour, and as he peered closer he had no doubt it had been drawn out with blood. That would definitely explain the deep, ragged gashes on his father's arms. But there was too much blood for it to have been his father's alone. That meant that there were others. He didn't get to think about this for long as his father dragged him to the middle of the room, and roughly pushed him down. He stood there, desperately trying to escape. His father seemed not to hear him as he kept screaming. He simply kept ripping the rest of his clothes off, barely blinking at his son's almost naked body. _

"_Let me go! Please!" He kept screaming until his throat felt raw and scratchy, whilst he kept struggling against his father. He knew deep inside that it was just no use but he didn't want this to happen. He didn't want to give up. But his father had already put a spell on him before so that he could not use magic. It had been done in his sleep so there was no way he could defend himself. _

"_Shut up," his father said calmly, momentarily stopping, "You better shut up this instant or I will _kill_ you. Don't think I don't mean it for a minute, boy."_

"_Whatever, I would rather die in your disgusting hands then in _HIS_!" He shouted out indignantly. He saw anger flashing through his father's eyes as the black magic seemed to swirl through his body even faster. In fact, there was so much magic it was practically pooling out of his fingertips. _

"_Petrificus totalus!" his father roared out fiercely._

_Suddenly he couldn't move, he couldn't scream. He felt his limbs go stiff as his father binded him. He tried to move but he couldn't, he couldn't get out of here. He couldn't believe his father was doing this to him. The father that had raised him, and had loved him since day one. The father who had done everything he could to make his son happy. That was until recently. Until he HE came back. _HE_ had ruined everything. Instead of loving him, his father was now stripping off his last piece of clothing, his silk boxers, ripping harshly with a vengeance._

"_And now to begin," his father declared in a deathly whisper looking at him greedily. The man raised his palms to face his son as if to direct his magic as it swirled even faster throughout his body. Finally he screamed out, "Crucio!"_

_The next thing he felt was pain. White blinding pain that seemed to conquer his whole body. And he still could not scream because of the previous curse. He was so overcome by this agony that he did not realize another person entering the room. He only noticed when the person started to talk. _

"_Let go of the binding spell," the man ordered his father. In a quieter voice he heard a simple, "I want to hear him scream."_

_And he did exactly that. He screamed, and screamed until his father finally stopped the torturing spell as well. The stranger came closer to him and he saw pitch black eyes staring at him. Eyes that had no feeling within them. They seemed to be simply cold, unforgiving, black holes. _

"_You're so beautiful," the stranger said with a voice, icy cold. A voice that sent shivers down his spine. Eventually the stranger lay on top of him and he realized what was about to happen. It was _HIM_. He tried to scream but nothing came out and for the next few hours all he felt was pain and agony. Pain and agony. _

Miles away, a boy named Harry Potter abruptly woke up.


	2. Frosty Floorboards

Hey guys. This is mostly a fill in to nudge the story along. 

Harry sat up with a rush, head spinning in worry and confusion.

'What the bloody hell was that?'

He twisted his body swiftly to reach the edge of the bed and placed his feet on the wooden floor, hastily snapping them back up as his toes reached the cold floorboards. He set them back down again, hissing at the frostiness that invaded his feet, soon reaching his whole body, making his teeth chatter. Rushing to the bathroom he promptly masked his face with chilly water thanking the icy dampness for abruptly waking him out of the lethargic bleariness that was sleep. He glanced up at the mirror hanging right in front of his face. The reflection emulated back to him was not pretty. Hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, even more wild and unruly then usual. Eyes sagging with lack of sleep, skin pale in fear.

'No wonder I'm still single.'

He snorted at the ridiculous timing of that thought to penetrate his mind and quickly stamped it out. There was more to worry about than his love life at the moment. Shit…Malfoy. He recalled everything. The pain. The fear. The eyes. A man once said that the eyes were the windows to the soul. So what did that mean? That HE really didn't have a soul? Or that he had a soul that was created on the epitome of evil? Was that even possible? He leaned down over the toilet attempting to keep himself from retching. Through Voldermort's eyes he had seen a lot. Murder, torture, fear beyond comprehension. But rape? That he had not. So why now? Wait…now. It was happening now! Shit. He quickly swallowed the bile that had erupted from his stomach, blanching at the acrid taste. Hurriedly erasing the water dripping from his face with a soggy towel, he dashed downstairs. He noticed his damp shirt, sodden with sweat and quickly realised there were white and black spots dancing in front of him. When he reached the kitchen he collapsed, as though a frail victim. _Just like Malfoy_.

"Harry!" He felt the caress of warm arms surrounding his waist and stared up through unfocused eyes. He blinked a few times trying to nudge the spots from his eyesight. When he finally pushed them away he looked around him, wondering why he had not crashed onto the hard floor. Not that he was complaining – that would have been painful after all. He forced his mind to clear the fog that had surrounded it and was soon aware that Remus had caught him in the last second. He felt himself being gently placed on the couch.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione. Panicking. Shit, Malfoy.

"Now, Hermione, give him some time to recuperate."

No. They didn't have time. Have to get Malfoy now.

"Malfoy. Malfoy's in danger. Voldermort's got him. Hurting him. Must stop-"

"Harry, calm down. Take a deep breath. Here have some of this."

I sensed someone urging a glass of water to my mouth and I shut my eyes at the feel of the cold, smooth flow of water streaming going down my throat. Better.

"I think I just had one of those visions. Voldermort is hurting Malfoy, we have to go get him."

"Malfoy? As in the ferret? Why the bloody hell would we help him?" Ron questioned vehemently.

What happened next was both sudden and unanticipated. Anger. He could not fathom why, or where it had appeared from, but he felt a swirl of rage storming through his body akin to the anger that emerged when fighting Voldermort. Eyes turned dark and stormy, breathing became irregular puffs of air that was inhaled and exhaled shallowly, never quite making it into the lungs, jaw tightened, outlining his jawbone in a most threatening manner. His fingers tingled and itched as he pictured himself striking Ron down with his fist. His entire body clenched as though his mind and heart were battling for dominance. And Ron noticed.

"Mate?"

"Tell me, Ron. Why shouldn't we save him?" His voice sounded frighteningly cool and collected. Strange.

"Because he is a prick! He's picked on us all our lives. We have no reason to rush out putting _our_ lives on the line for him!" His words – confident. His voice – quivering in fear as he looked at the deathly expression on Harry's face. Harry's jaw tightened and he was stunned that words could even be produced through such a taut mouth.

"Hmmm. You're right, Ron." His expression did not change. Stormy. Angry. Calm.

"Uh…thank you?" Ron almost regretted what he said now. Harry was never calm when he was angry.

"He _has_ treated us unpleasantly in the past, after all. What with him calling you Weasel and Hermione, Mudblood. Such awful language."

"Exactly." Ron's voice was now weak.

"And because of such…name calling and petty fights, we should not rescue him from Voldermort, from whom he is currently being tortured and raped by. After all…he did call you _Weasel_. The fact that right at this moment as we speak he is being royally _fucked_ by a revolting being who is the essence of malevolence and evil, that is Voldermort, should not bother us at all. And really, we should forget the tiny detail that not helping Malfoy is the equivalent of assisting Voldermort as that does not matter either. After all, he _did_ call you _Weasel_." Funny how he sounded so eloquent when deep inside he was scorching from anger. Wish he always sounded so articulate.

Silence.

"Now Ron, if you really feel so strongly about Malfoy, maybe you should stay here. Wouldn't want you to start helping Voldermort."

Silence. Harry did not miss the look of hurt and betrayal on Ron's face. He didn't miss a beat.

"We have to go now. It's happening in Malfoy Manor."

This time when Harry placed his feet on the floor he didn't even notice the cold.


	3. Dirty Grey Eyes

Hey guys, hope you enjoy this. Tell me what you think, I'd love to hear your opinions and what you think should happen in the story. :)

* * *

He stumbled slightly as he felt the disconnection in his surroundings as they rapidly changed. Apparition was really not his favourite method of travel. He took in the environment in which he had landed in, from the dirty grey gravel (he couldn't help but think that they were the same colour as Malfoy's eyes) soiling his new shoes, to the heavy ambience that seemed to set in everyone's heart. Darkness has visited this place. That much was obvious. He looked up at the weighty iron gate that was in front of him, taking notice of the beautiful design that had been carved into the masterpiece. A simple, yet elegant snake. _How appropriate. Not to mention cliché. _He snorted at this and tried to ignore the strange looks his friends gave him. _I suppose this really is not the time to laugh. _As beautiful as the gateway was, this was not what the others were focused on – it was another detail that had captured their attention. It was open. Why would they leave the gate open for anyone to enter?

"The wards." Moody spoke softly, attempting to prevent the atmosphere from hearing them. The air around them felt as though it was going to crush the breath out of their lungs at any moment. As it were, he was already having difficult breathing, feeling the pressure of the mood slowly pressing into his lungs.

"What about them?" Pressure. Breathe. Pressure.

"They're gone."

At this, he swivelled around starting up at Moody as though he had lost his mind. Why on earth would Voldermort take down the wards? That made absolutely no sense not to mention stupid.

Unless it was a trap.

"We can't go in, Harry. This is too easy. HE wouldn't make it this easy for us. Not unless he's ready." Damn Hermione for being so bloody logical. Didn't they get it? Malfoy could be in there right now being tortured, beaten, ra-. He pushed that thought out of his head. He didn't want to remember. The pain. The fear. The eyes.

"So, what? We just leave Malfoy in there? We can't just do that! Look we have plenty of Auror's with us to break in. We can defend ourselves." _Ok, not so convincing._ _Damn, where is my eloquence now?_

"Break in? Harry, he's _letting_ us in! We can't go in. It would be suicide. You can't seriously think we can do this? I agree that Malfoy doesn't deserve this but there's nothing we can do about this, Harry."

"Granger's right, Harry," Moody asserted in his usual gruff voice. Usual - _like it didn't matter_.

He noticed that everyone was huddled near Hermione and Moody, demonstrating a subconscious act of agreeing with them. They didn't get it. What he had seen….The swirl of rage started to build up again. His fingers clenched into a fist with anger and he started wishing he had punched Ron just to get it out of his system. Hermione, however, was not to back down.

"Harry, I understand I really do-"

"No, you bloody well don't. I saw it from his eyes-"

"How on earth did you see it from Malfoy's eyes?"

_What a perpetually stupid question to ask right now._ He simply continued.

"Do you know what it's like having someone tear your clothes off and loom over you, knowing that someone is going to fuck you with no mercy? Imagine that happening to you, Hermione. Imagine the fear you'd experience. How dirty your body would feel being stretched by a repulsive monster that gets off on hearing you scream in terror."

What he had said must have hit a nerve, or at least send everyone into shock. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

"Besides, you forgot my bloody hero streak." He spat out vehemently. _Fuck eloquence._ And then he turned around.

The dirty grey gravel (just like Malfoy's eyes) crunched underneath him too loudly; a dead giveaway if anyone was waiting for him. But he could do nothing else. Once he past the beautiful entrance he stopped. Nothing. Slowly pacing one foot in front of the other he crept up to the large house in front of him. The ivory white walls appeared to glare at him, ready to shout out his emergence. The green ivy that circled the magnificent pillars seemed as thought their reason for existence was to choke him to death. The door to the house, just as glorious as the rest of the house was a large, carved wooden door. A snake again. _Typical. _Harry waited for it to suddenly burst into his face. Nothing. He entered. He knew that if anyone was here they would be in the chamber located in the basement. Snape had told them that that was where they held their magical…activities. He crept down the stone stairs in apprehension, realising that this was where all the Death Eaters were. One teenage boy versus dozens of highly practiced wizards. He could do this. He almost snorted in laughter again as he walked across the basement and reached the chamber door, which he noted was much smaller than the front door and, ironically enough, lacked a carving of a snake. He stepped closer…and paused in shock. When they had decided to infiltrate Malfoy Manor earlier that day, Snape had warned them that to enter the attic you needed a Malfoy to prick the needle set beside the door. They could only get in with Malfoy blood. Originally they had planned to wait until the older Malfoy finally left the room and capture him or to simply ambush one of the Death Eater once the door had been opened at all. But Harry didn't have to worry about ambushing or waiting. It was open. He slowly crept in and gasped in horror.

It was empty.


	4. Ruptured Smile

The cold air surrounding him made him shiver in both chilliness and apprehension. Dust had surrounded the whole house, enveloping all the beautiful objects within the inner recesses of the ivory walls. The dust appeared to him as though it was covering up a deadly secret, concealing all that had happened in this both notorious and iniquitous domicile. It surfaced the plaster of sin that enveloped this place as though no one else was to see a Malfoy's surreptitious act. The dust also indicated that if anyone had been here, they were long gone. There were many instances in his life when he felt utterly defeated. As though the devastation of one horrible event dragged him down until he could barely crawl out to see the light of good. Sirius's death. Dumbledore's death. Merlin, even Cedric's death. Yes, it had happened quite a few times in Harry's short life. And this was one of those times. He vaguely recalled moving from room to room frantically searching for any sign of Malfoy and not succeeding. He could barely understand why he felt so severely destroyed in his heart. After all, there was no indication that Malfoy was dead, and to most, a lack of death was perceived as an encouraging indication. Harry knew better. The notion that Malfoy wasn't dead simply wrecked at Harry's heart even further. If he wasn't dead, than he was no doubt still suffering. For the first time in his life he felt himself praying for someone's death so that they should not _have_ to live any longer. This all just added to the fact that his supposed friends were no where to be seen. He hadn't left the house in over half an hour. So why hadn't they bothered to 'save' him yet? Were they even coming up with some sort of plan?

He sat dejectedly on the bed in a room he could only presume belonged to Draco. _Since when was he Draco? _Images of Malfoy, Parkinson and Zabini were scattered over the silver mantle. In all of them Malfoy was beaming without his usual sneer, his eyes sparkling with laughter and joy. _I wish he would smile like that at me. _He almost smacked himself on the head when he contemplated that. He ought to be assessing on how to find Malfoy, not his bloody smile. He doubted Malfoy would smile like that again any time soon. At this Harry finally gave in and plunged onto the bed. _Draco's bed._ He endeavoured to keep the tears from his eyes but as he lay, limbs outstretched in frustration, he felt them spring up, obscuring his vision. A delicate tear ran down his face. He felt it slowly caress his cheek bone and curve at the arc of his jaw before falling onto Draco's bed. He blinked. This would not do. He struggled to pull himself together and push himself up. He had to go home (if he could even call Grimmauld Place that) and figure out a way to reach Malfoy. There must be a spell out there or maybe certain places where they kept their victims. Moody might know, he could ask him. Provided that he was still talking to him. Harry rolled his eyes at that. Or almost did. He couldn't quite find the strength to perform such an act. It felt too ordinary during such a time.

He made way to stand up until he felt something brush his fingertips which had somehow found its way to the edge of a pillow when he had collapsed ungracefully on the bed. He placed his feet on the floor and stood quickly before looming over the offending pillow and carefully picking up and shoving the item away.

Disbelief. It was a picture. Of him.

He lifted the beautiful wooden frame to his face and looked at a spectacularly identical reflection of his own. The picture must have been taken after a Quidditch game from the uniform he was wearing. His smile was wide, bursting of happiness like a ray of hidden sunshine, his eyes were a brilliant emerald green dazzling in happiness, his hair was being blown back ferociously by the wind, his cheeks flushed from excitement. Why on earth did Malfoy have this under his _pillow_? Could it be that-.

He dropped the picture. He didn't have time for this – for what ifs. He needed to save Malfoy before he could start thinking about loving him. _Loving him? Where the hell did that come from? _He hastily turned away and walked to the door, determined to walk out and forget about this for now. _But what if he never got to see this room again? _He stopped at that and turned around again quickly taking it all in. The ivory walls, the soft bed covered in a plush white comforter, surrounded by deep mahogany wood. The pictures. Bloody hell, he needed to get out of here. He faced the door, resolute that he must leave now before his heart ruptured any more. _God_, where was Malfoy. He turned the doorknob – and stopped. _Where did that noise come from? _

He turned back to face the room and walked carefully into the room. Thankful for the soft carpeting that prevented any sound emitting from his steps, he tread towards the middle of the room. He heard it again – a soft whimper. The closet. He took out his want from his back pocket and held it out before roughly shoving the door open. He gasped in terror, heart speeding up to the point here he felt it make erupt. There on the walls, was writing. In blood.

**Hello, Harry Potter. Do you like my gift? **

_Gift. What bloody gift?_

Whimper. He looked down, and stared into the corner of the closet.

There was Malfoy.


	5. Brutal Astonishment

Whimper.

Shock.

Harry stood still, his limbs rigid like stone. He didn't even blink.

"Malfoy?"

Whimper.

Dear Merlin, what had happened to him? He peered closer, squinting in the dark, attempting to get a better look of Malfoy. _Was he hurt? Is that why he can't speak? _What he saw next made him gag. He abruptly slammed his hand over his mouth, preventing the acidic bile to surface, before swallowing deeply. _Bloody hell. _Malfoy's hair was greasy and stuck to his head, almost brownish in colour from the dirt that had accumulated in the strands. His skin was battered with bruises, cuts and even burns. Burns – as though they had set hot metal on his skin. His lips were bruised red and purple, and Harry could see a cut on his bottom lip. He could also make out the large gashes on Malfoy's arms. They must have used his blood for the message. Again Harry swallowed his bile. What alarmed him the most, however, were the eyes. Empty, cold, unfeeling. God, did Malfoy even notice he was there? Harry took a step into the closet before again stopping. Blood. It was pooling out from Malfoy – or it had been before it dried. _Where was that coming from? _He looked closer and realised it was coming from behind Malfoy. From Malfoy's ar-. _Oh, God. _He had to get Malfoy out of here so he could be healed. When he came up to Malfoy, he expected Malfoy to shriek in fear or to scramble away from him as most victims do. Nothing. He just stared at Harry with those hollow eyes. This scared Harry even more. He needed to apparate out of her, but where. St. Mungos? No, Malfoy would hate that, hate all the stares, all the people grabbing at him. Madam Pomfrey. Hogwarts. He had to get to Hogwarts. He grabbed onto his companion and thought very carefully. He, yet again, felt his surroundings change around him with a sudden pop and he gently placed his Malfoy on the bed. _His__ Malfoy? _He shook this though out of his head and looked down. No, this did not look like his Malfoy at all. His Malfoy was proud, arrogant and unforgiving. This beaten up victim was simply a remnant of him.

He stared around the familiar room, not seeing Madam Pomfrey anywhere. Thankfully, however, she was in her little office that was attached to the Medical Wing.

"Madam Pomfrey! You need to help him!"

Pomfrey swivelled around in her chair, hand on her heart as though in severe shock. Being the professional woman she was though, she soon snapped out of it.

"Harry, what on earth are you doing here?" Her faces spoke of both surprise and concern. No time to give details.

"It's Malfoy, he's been hurt." With that he ran out of the office to Malfoy's bed, aware the Pomfrey would follow.

"Dear Merlin," came the horrified whisper from Pomfrey. "What-"

"Death Eaters."

Nothing else was said as Pomfrey rushed around placing spells on Malfoy to stop the bleeding and check for internal injuries. Malfoy didn't move, not a fragment of his body changed position.

"I spelled a diagnosis, Harry. What I see is not good." Harry already expected that. He was ready for it.

"It appears as though Mr Malfoy here as been tortured quite mercilessly. His skin has been both whipped and beaten. And burned. With metal." Pomfrey looked over at Harry, questioning silently if he really wished her to continue. But Harry simply stood by Malfoy's side, a stoic expression on his face. She sighed and continued. That boy had grown up too fast in his life. "Some of his throat tissue has been torn as though…something had been forced down there numerous times." She waited for Harry's reaction. Nothing. Either the poor boy was in shock or he really was the bravest man to exist. "His anal tissue has suffered as well I am afraid. It is quite torn. But it can be healed quickly," she hastily added, sure that this would cause Harry to react badly. Nothing. "The least damage was to his fingers. Many of his fingernails have snapped in half, and there remains much blood under there. His blood and others. From struggling."

He wasn't ready for it.

Ironically enough, this least importance detail that completed Draco's diagnosis was the one that cause Harry to respond. He crashed his hand over his mouth, clutching his stomach for the third time this day. But now he could not hold back, as there was nothing to hold back for. He turned to the waste basket that lay next to the bed and let the pungently foul tasting bile to make its way up before spewing it out. It was a good thing he had only eaten once today.

Thinking about the struggle brought back the dream. But it wasn't really a dream now was it? No, it was reality. A cruel, brutal reality. Straightening his back, he looked over at Malfoy. _Oh God. What he has been through. _

What happened next was both astonishing and unanticipated. A crash came through the door, a sound of someone entering much too forcefully, practically tearing them off the hinges. And there he was, a man you looked shockingly like an older version of Draco.

Lucius Malfoy.

Draco began screaming.


	6. Uncomfortable Predictability

The shrill sound of screaming echoed throughout the room, deafening all ears nearby. The hoarse voice belonged to none other than Draco Malfoy, a person whose eyes were wide with fear, tears leaking out gradually at the edges.

"Draco!" Lucius rushed in a most ungraceful manner towards his only son, only for Draco to begin screaming louder to a most ear splitting pitch. The fear on his face was unbearable. Lucius apparently did not appear to understand that his son was screaming because of him. Harry whipped his wand out, pointing it furiously at the older Malfoy. Jabbing his weapon vehemently into the man's chest he felt the sudden urge to kill him, a feeling that was not unfamiliar to Harry. He stood for just a moment attempting to think of the worst possible curse he could place on Malfoy until he saw it. The tears. _Malfoy's crying?_ _After what he's done? _He felt the resentment and fury take hold of him once again as Draco began sobbing next to him.

"Sectum-"

"That's quite enough, Harry." Oh, _now_ Pomfrey decides to say something.

"She's right, Harry. Put the wand down." _What? But Malfoy-_

"Harry." Dumbledore said this as a warning. A warning not to hurt Malfoy. Had the world gone insane?

"Mr Malfoy, I am going to have to ask you to leave for the time being." What Malfoy did next was the most astonishing thing he had ever seen.

Malfoy nodded.

And left.

Because Dumbledore asked him too.

Confusion overtook his body as he wondered, not for the first time, whether the whole world really was against him. _Was Dumbledore friends with the Malfoy's_? _Was he manipulating me this entire time?_ Thoughts like these were not unusual for Harry, but now Draco was in the picture and he refused to let him get hurt. He glared up at his supposed guide, the man who was meant to keep him safe. Harry snorted. Great job he's done so far. Here was Draco sobbing after being tortured by his father and when said father comes here he is asked _politely_ to leave. Honestly. It was a no wonder Harry became so immensely angry theses days. What he was feeling must have shown clearly on his face as Dumbledore quickly reasoned with him.

"Harry, you misunderstand. What occurred in the Manor was not entirely Mr Malfoy's fault. He was under the impression of Imperious."

Bloody hell. The jolt of this news made Harry grow rigid with astonishment. He waited for Dumbledore too continue, not saying a word. This must have caused Dumbledore some bewilderment as he was accustomed to Harry screaming out verbal abuses when such statements like these were made. He attempted to blink the befuddlement back, pausing a second too long.

"Well? Are you going to continue?" Harry's tone was cold and distant. The boy had turned into an adult much too quickly. Dumbledore sighed at this, aware that his attempts to protect Harry were all failures.

"The Malfoy's have been working as spies for us, Harry." Dumbledore expected a reaction from this. Harry didn't move, his expression not changing.

"When Draco here, defiantly turned down the Dark Mark Voldermort decided to…punish him." This snapped Harry out of his stupor.

"Why do you know this?"

"Voldermort punished him almost a month ago. Mr Malfoy managed to tell me this much, but could not escape from Voldermort's sight in attempt to go after his son. Not until now. He came here because he could not find his son at the Manor and knew you had found him as he had been informed by Voldermort that he was going to place a vision of the punishment in your mind eventually. Mr Malfoy presumed you would bring him here. All I can say is that I am so terribly glad that I managed to find away to remove you from the anti-disappartion spell in Hogwarts. It is usually only the Headmaster who has that privilege."

Harry sneered at that. "Really? Is that all you have to say? No mention of how you have been lying to me _again_? Hmmm, curious. I really thought you were over such…phases. I thought you knew better than to lie to me now. After all, all your previous attempts at it came out in disaster. Maybe if you learnt how to lie properly, in the very least, we would both be spared from your troublesome _protecting_ methods that you attempt on me. Now tell me, my dear friend, why should I stay here any longer in this midst of lies?" Dumbledore's stunned face made him chuckle. He turned to Pomfrey.

"I believe Draco is coherent enough to be taken home. Give me the supplies I need. I know Mrs Weasley is just as capable as you are." His eyes softened slightly. "Thank you, though. For all your help. I don't know what I'd do without you." Surprisingly, Madame Pomfrey smiled at him.

"You are welcome, Harry." Harry smiled back. What came next was the pathetic predictability from Albus Dumbledore.

"Harry, you can not leave here! It may not be safe-"

"Oh yes, because it is so much safer here." Harry snorted. "But I really must be going, even if your beliefs of my safety are somewhat warped, I think even you know that it'd be better than staying here with you. As fond as I am of watching you _fuck up_ at a most constant rate, my first priority right now is taking care of Draco. Goodbye, Headmaster." And with that he grabbed Draco, his supplies and apparated to the Burrow.

He didn't know what was more uncomfortable.

Attempting to apparate an unconscious body.

Or the six wands that were pointed at him when he arrived.


End file.
